Chapter 2: Power Outage Samantha's POV
My heart skipped a beat. The way he looked at me made me forget my rules, my principles, and just want to go wild. But I was a date-to-marry girl, and Rick clearly looked like a guy who just wanted to test the waters with me.
As if reading my mind, Rick looked deeper into my eyes. "I know what you might be thinking. He just wants to mess around with me. Have sex and then leave. But trust me, what I feel for you is so insane, and I hate seeing you like this. No man deserves you—not even me. Inasmuch as I like you a lot, I don't want to put you in danger. You won't understand," he said, his tone softening as he ran his fingers through my hair.
My breath hitched at his touch, a sudden rush of heat flooding my veins. Realizing how close I was to breaking, I pulled his hand away. "We've talked about this. Let's not make this complicated. You're just my friend... a really good friend. Let's not jeopardize that."
I had come here because I was hurt by Marcus, so I didn't understand why having Rick this close to me was making me completely forget that I was supposed to be grieving my anniversary. But deep down, I knew the truth. I had already noticed for a while that Marcus had been different. The love was gone.
Rick leaned back against the leather couch of the booth, a mocking, lazy smile playing on his lips. "What would you like to drink... friend?" he asked, emphasizing the word just to tease me. "It's on the house. Anything to make you feel better.”
Before I could even answer him, a deafening crack of thunder shook the entire building, rattling the liquor bottles behind the bar.
Simultaneously, the overhead neon lights flickered violently twice, hummed, and then died completely. The lounge was plunged into absolute darkness, save for the eerie flashes of lightning cutting through the frosted front windows. A collective gasp and a low murmur of complaints rippled through the crowded bar.
"Stay here," Rick’s deep voice commanded in the dark. I heard the rustle of his leather jacket, and a moment later, the beam of his phone’s flashlight illuminated his sharp features.
One of his bartenders jogged over, looking stressed. "Boss, the main transformer down the street just blew. The whole block is out, and the main road is already completely flooded. Nobody is getting a car out of that parking lot tonight."
Rick didn't even blink. He directed his flashlight toward the crowd. "Announce that the bar is closed, but let people shelter from the storm on the main floor. Keep the emergency lights on." He turned the beam back to me, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "As for you... you're coming with me."
Before I could protest about our 'just friends' status, his massive hand wrapped firmly around my wrist. His grip wasn't hurtful, but it left zero room for argument. He guided me past the crowded tables and through a heavy door marked Private, leading me up a dark flight of stairs.
We bypassed the second floor where his tattoo shop sat silent and dark, continuing up to the very top until he unlocked a heavy steel door.
It was his private office.
He pulled me inside and shut the door, instantly cutting off the dull roar of the crowded bar downstairs. The room was large, smelling of expensive cologne, clean leather, and fresh ink. A massive window overlooked the city, silhouetting his imposing frame against the backdrop of the raging storm outside.
Rick let go of my wrist and walked over to a small bar cart in the corner, lighting a stray candle on the desk. The flickering flame cast long, intimate shadows across the room, catching the intricate tattoos curling up his neck.
He poured two glasses of amber liquid, walked back over, and handed one to me. Our fingers brushed, and that familiar, terrifying electricity shot straight up my arm.
"The roads are blocked, Sammie. Looks like you're trapped up here with me tonight," he murmured, leaning his massive frame against the edge of his desk, his eyes burning through the dim candlelight. "Now... tell me exactly what Marcus did to make you cry.”
